Ficlets

As initiations tend to, it started much differently than he expected: upside down.

He woke to find himself suspended by his feet. His weight and blood concentrated in his head; his numb arms hung limply, in a mockery of diving. A dim grey haze fell on purple-brown bark, flaking off a thick trunk. No birds were singing, though it was dawn. Oddly, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as one might think. Lovely, he thought. Of course, I got stuck with the yew.